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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244941">Fire and rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawalux/pseuds/wawalux'>wawalux</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Dinner, Dorks in Love, Drama &amp; Romance, Drunken Kissing, Emotional, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Roller Coaster, Emotions, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Forbidden Love, French Kissing, Heartache, Heartbeats, Hurt Matt Murdock, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Kissing in the Rain, Love, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, My First Work in This Fandom, POV First Person, POV Karen Page, POV Matt Murdock, POV Multiple, Rain, Review, Romance, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Gestures, Romantic Soulmates, Romanticism, Rough Kissing, Season/Series 02, Sexy, Sexy Times, Slow Romance, Surprise Kissing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Matt Murdock, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,785</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25244941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wawalux/pseuds/wawalux</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you mind the rain?" I hear Karen ask as I stand under the eve, the noise and electricity from the bodies crammed into Josie's still pulsating through my frame.</p><p>"No," I hear myself answering, before I can think about it. Part of me automatically searches for the warm energy that I know to be Karen, my hearing so attuned to the sound of her heartbeat that I am sure I could pick it out in a crowd.</p><p>"Then I'll walk you home," she says, and I feel her cold fingers grasp my hand, her heart beating strangely. What is that? Excitement? Resolve? I let her drag me into the downpour, feeling lighter than I have been in a long time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Matt Murdock &amp; Karen Page, Matt Murdock/Karen Page</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Karen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My take on Matt and Karen's first kiss, S2 E4. This is Karen's perspective, then there is Matt's. If like me you have been gasping to relive that moment, fruitlessly searching for someones take on the scene, than this is for you. I do not own any of the characters, ideas and have taken the script from the episode.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Matt suddenly stops walking, gently tugging at our entwined hands, and I turn to him in surprise. Have we reached his place already? My mind had been spiraling as I struggled to believe that this was really happening. Every step floating on air, acutely aware of his hand holding mine, the raindrops gentle reminders tethering me to earth. He is my boss. He is my friend. I shouldn't do this. But then, that warm hand. And my fluttering heartbeat.</p><p>I look at him, at his sopping wet hair gently dripping into his unseeing eyes, at his sodden suit, and it hits me again, just how beautiful he is. His wet fingers, somehow still warm, are holding mine and I anchor myself to them to keep from drifting away.</p><p>He stands there, quietly confident, and I suddenly hear the sound of the rain, so much rain, crashing around us, on us, the drops hitting our drenched skin. I feel my sodden feet in my shoes, my dress sticking to my skin, my hair dripping onto my shoulders.</p><p>His face breaks into a grin as if he too just realized the impossibility of our situation and he lets out a quiet laugh that makes my heart skip a beat. A breathless giggle escapes my lips as I drink him in. God, he is beautiful.</p><p>His face then looks up, a grin to the sky, as if his sightless eyes are somehow absorbing the motion of every single glistening drop that is falling around us. With a pang, I think back to my brother, his young face mischievous as we stepped into the rain, our young mouths wide open, trying to catch as many drops as possible, pretending we could drink them.</p><p>Part of me feels it when his hand lets go of my cold fingers but my arm remains frozen in place, half reaching towards him. I don't feel the one of many drops that gently cascades down my arm, but Matt does, his head tilted to the side as if to hear its whisper of a trail. His face suddenly serious, he lifts his hand to stop its fall. His fingers, barely tracing my skin, slowly move up my forearm ever so softly, sending shivers up my spine. My breath hitches in my throat as he follows the drop on the inside of my elbow but I can't hear it over the sound of my thundering heartbeat. And still his hand works its way up my arm, gently, leaving a trail of fire on my drenched skin.</p><p>I know I should be feeling cold, or wet. I know the pouring rain is loud and uncomfortable. I know that part of me is screaming in protest because this is Matt and it can't be real. I know that I don't have the strength to give my heart away, not yet, not when I'm not ever sure that it is ever fully there. I know all this. But all I can think is his hesitant touch, still climbing towards my shoulder, exploring the boldness of a rain drop.</p><p>The smell of rain invades my brain as my lungs suck greedy gulps of air and his hand continues to explore my skin. My eyes follow his fingers as they move, up, always up, but I can't help glancing at his serious face. I wonder if he can feel the goose bumps that his soft touch is raising on my suddenly burning skin. I wonder if his sensitive fingers can feel my heart bouncing in my chest.</p><p>I suddenly wish that he could see me, just this once. See the world, with the glittering drops crashing all around us and the faint light illuminating this random street corner, and this blonde girl in a soaking wet dress working so hard to breathe, trying to pretend that she hasn't already given her heart away. I wish he could know just how beautiful he is, standing there in the rain, with his shirt sticking to his muscled chest and his eyes burning so intensely behind his red lenses, as if trying to evade the inevitable blindness.</p><p>Because they can, they can see me. Matt can see me like nobody ever has before.</p><p>I look at the drops falling onto his skin and feel jealous of their borrowed touch, as my fingers itch to chase their trail on his face, on his chest, on his lips.</p><p>His hand suddenly stops near my shoulder and the absence of his touch is a gush of cold before his hand gently takes my shoulder, just for a second. Matt then pauses, ever so briefly, before cupping my face and taking a slow but deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us.</p><p>I let my face melt into his burning hand and close my eyes. His thumb gently rubs my cheekbone and I think of how many times I had longed for this moment, for his touch, to feel his hand exploring my face. My mind spins as I remember how often I had to rein in my clumsy heartbeat when his hands had casually grasped my arm to guide him through a new space. I remember the feel of him as I tried to help him play pool, my trembling fingers suddenly hesitant on his strong hands. My memories flood with the stolen scent of him, warm and masculine and with the faint hint of whisky, intoxicating and safe, as I leaned in to guide his blind fingers. And that moment where he froze, listening, because he knew, he knew. But how could he know?</p><p>And then his warm hand is on my cheek, gently guiding me towards him and I feel his lips steal a kiss from the air between us, tasting our lack of touch. I know that he can feel my pulse as he pulls me even closer, finding my lips, as I try to swallow just one more breath.</p><p>His first kiss is gentle, his lips somehow softer than I had expected as his sure hand holds me in place. I take another greedy breath and taste his warm lips and the hint of alcohol lingering on his tongue. My head spins and I drown in the rain and the faint scent of Josie's squalor and Matt, so Matt, only Matt.</p><p>My eyes are closed but I see red, the world on fire, as my fingers search for his face, his hair, pulling him closer. He kisses me again, his lips stronger this time, and I can't breathe, hungry only for him, as I will my heart to keep on beating, just one more beat, so I can survive this kiss, this moment.</p><p>One breath and then it's over, his lips leaving mine, and I drink him in for one more instant and let my forehead rest on his as we break apart. I leave my eyes closed and let his steady heartbeat soothe my erratic pulse, trying to remember how to stand on my legs as I continue to swallow great lungfuls of air. I wonder if his heart is fluttering like mine, worried that I can never break his carefully composed façade. Not even for a kiss.</p><p>His eyes are closed and I hear his warm voice rumble: 'Can I take you to dinner?'</p><p>Our heads are close enough that I can still taste him with every breath.</p><p>'Yes,' I reply in an instant, my head nodding before I can remember that he can't see me. He smiles, feeling the movement against his forehead.</p><p>'Tomorrow?' His voice is low and warm and sure and eager. His voice is the sound of coming home.</p><p>Anytime, I think. Anywhere.</p><p>Another nod escapes my chin, another whispered 'yes'. He takes a step back, a smile playing on his lips and cocks his head, his hand still holding my face. His face breaks into a lopsided grin and I want to melt into this moment, freeze it in time. I want my whole life to be this moment.</p><p>'Goodnight Karen,' he whispers.</p><p>My heart aches at the sight of him and I lift my hand thinking to trace his lips, just once more, before I take a step back. I drop my hand before it reaches his face because I know that if I touch him, even just this once, I wouldn't be able to stop.</p><p>'Goodnight Matt' I say quietly as I start to move my frozen legs.</p><p>I leave him there, standing in the rain in the middle of the street, one hand still clutching his folded walking stick. As I walk towards the street I see him turn his head to listen to my retreating footsteps. I wonder if it's easier to say goodbye when you can't see the person leave you.</p><p>I steal one more glance at him, at this impossible man dripping in the night. I run my hand through my wet hair searching for reality.</p><p>And then I tear myself away and step into the dry cab, my mind still full of rain.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Matt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>My take on Matt and Karen's first kiss, S2 E4. This is Karen's perspective, then there is Matt's. If like me you have been gasping to relieve that moment, fruitlessly searching for someones take on the scene, than this is for you. I do not own any of the characters, ideas and have taken the script from the episode.</p><p>"The drops continue to fall, drenching her skin, wetting her hair. I try to absorb each one as they shape her face, her long hair, her bare arms, her small frame. Glimpses, that's all I get. I wish I could still the image. I wish I could make it whole."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Do you mind the rain?" I hear Karen ask as I stand under the eve, the noise and electricity from the bodies crammed into Josie's still pulsating through my frame.</p><p>"No," I hear myself answering, before I can think about it. Part of me automatically searches for the warm energy that I know to be Karen, my hearing so attuned to the sound of her heartbeat that I am sure I could pick it out in a crowd.</p><p>"Then I'll walk you home," she says, and I feel her cold fingers grasp my hand, her heart beating strangely. What is that? Excitement? Resolve? I let her drag me into the downpour, feeling lighter than I have been in a long time.</p><p>I never minded the rain, not since the accident, at least. Rain used to force me inside when I was still free to explore the city around me with my friends. I used to resent the drops for keeping me prisoner of our small flat. Things changed with my new senses. Rain became a canvas of sound, painting the city around me. I relished the calm in the streets, as most people rushed for shelter. I let the deafening roar of water soothe my oversensitive ears, finally blocking out the minute sounds that normally cloud my mind, pulling my attention in a million directions at once.</p><p>Karen and I walk in silence, strolling as casually as if we were in a warm summer evening. I keep my walking stick folded in my right hand, letting her small fingers and fluttering heartbeat lead the way. I savor the drops as they wash away the stress from another long evening of letting the devil in me roam free, and gradually start to hear the water slow Karen's pulse too. Whatever her mind was thinking before she grabbed my hand seems to be ebbing away, and I relax with her, for what feels like the first time in too long.</p><p>I'm tired. So tired from the long nights of not sleeping, from the fighting, from trying to keep up two lives. My muscles ache as I walk, old and new injuries clamouring to be heard, and yet I feel my senses pull towards those cold fingers, claiming my hand with a gentle pressure. Without meaning to, I let my ears branch out to hear that steady heartbeat once more, suddenly wondering exactly how and when I have inadvertently let this girl get under my skin. When have I let that heartbeat become the rhythm that steadies my life at work, the noise I search for in a crowd, the one thing that makes me Matt.</p><p>Of course I have always known that Karen is beautiful. I can sense it in the pulse of the crowd as she strolls past and in the injection of confidence in Foggy's voice whenever he addresses her. Yet physical beauty remains more of an intrigue to me than an attraction. They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder...and in that case, I am truly fucking blind.</p><p>I have been with my fair share of beautiful women, a fact that Foggy likes to remind me of constantly. I have felt their slender bodies under my fingers, grasped at their curves, tasted the tenderness of their warm skin. I have let myself melt in the comfort of their touch, for a few hours, or a few nights. But it has always been moments before I inevitably get bored, the sound of their voice scratching against my skull, their perfume burning my nostrils.</p><p>But Karen is…different. She had gone scent-free a few short weeks after she started working with us, probably a tip from Foggy, for which I am grateful. Synthetic scents, so sweet and floral to everyone else, scratch at my eyes and burn my sinuses, the taste of chemicals permanently etched on my tongue. I now enjoy reading the fragrances bouncing off her skin, little clues shaping the story of her days. The smell of her bed sheets clinging to her in the morning, of the different fabrics she has tried on and decided not to wear, of the little dog that has brushed close to her legs on her way to the office. The sip of whisky she had two nights ago, mixed with the green tea from this morning, wafting towards me with mouthfuls of the spearmint chewing gum in her mouth. Her hands still carry the traces of all the doors she has opened while following a trail, a salty hint of fear, excitement and adrenaline stuck under her fingernails.</p><p>Karen is beautiful, but not because she is beautiful. Karen is beautiful in her little clumsy movements when she tries to be more feminine. She is beautiful in the sound her heartbeat makes when she is resolved to move past the fear, to follow a trail of breadcrumbs. She is beautiful in the sound her eyelashes make when she has to look away. She is beautiful for the rush of air seeping through her teeth when she smiles. Her beauty is the million tones hidden in her voice, the sound her tongue makes when it brushes against her teeth as she says 'Matt'.</p><p>I know better than to let myself care for this girl. She deserves better. She deserves a man who is whole, a man who couldn't hurt her, a man who can cherish that innocence and not quench it. I can still feel Stick's warning in the back of my mind.</p><p>I am a soldier, a warrior. I am the devil's of Hell's Kitchen. I am Daredevil. Women are silk sheets and comforts I should not be allowed to have. I should just let her go before I inevitably get her hurt.</p><p>We continue to walk in companionable silence and I let sound fill my ears. If I concentrate, if I really concentrate, I can almost see Karen walking beside me, head tall, pace steady. I can smell the wetness of her clothes and the contact of the rain against her skin. Pin-pricks of noise, each drop lights her shape like a diamond. The world on fire is softer in the rain, water cooling the flames, but her footsteps distract me, the image of her shape melting in a pool of sound.</p><p>I stop, instinctively, just to dilute the pollution, trying to fight the static. My mind is drawn to her shape, wants to trace the contours of her frame, just this once. Karen turns, surprised at my halting steps. I feel her pulse spike, and it brings me out of my reverie. Here we are, wet to our bones, strolling along as if it is the most natural thing in the world. I feel like an infatuated teenager when I realize that there is nowhere I would rather be, and I start to laugh. It feels good to laugh, to let it out, and just be free, be normal.</p><p>Her tinkling laugh makes something melt inside me. Her pulse jumps again. Nervous? Hopeful? She must be cold, so many drops hitting her skin, each releasing its own unique scent as they blend with her skin. The warm smell of Karen, of woman, and summer and rain, overwhelms me. I let it guide my senses as they branch out once again, searching for the trace of each drop, searching for her. I look up at the sky to predict the curtain of water that will hit her next, ready to feel each drop, to hear it. Ready to see her.</p><p>The drops continue to fall, drenching her skin, wetting her hair. I try to absorb each one as they shape her face, her long hair, her bare arms, her small frame. Glimpses, that's all I get. I wish I could still the image. I wish I could make it whole.</p><p>I find myself distracted by her arms. I can feel their bareness in the smell of the rain. I can hear the drops making their way down towards our hands. I reach out to catch one, wanting to reassure my senses, to make the flickers whole. As gentle as the rain, not to dilute its noise, I catch a raindrop in its tracks on her forearm. I feel her freeze, her pulse pick up. I slowly move up, feeling another drop caress her soft skin. I reach her elbow before her breathing becomes ragged, and I absorb the noise of her lungs along with the downpour, the swish of air reverberating in my eardrums, removing static in my head. One more drop, higher up. I make it mine. Lost in my little game, I can't help but move my fingers steadily up to her bare shoulders, the goosebumps erupting on her skin making something shift inside me.</p><p>I pause when I reach her shoulder, most of me still concentrating on the little drops, my mind full of her sweet smell, my thoughts trying to piece her together. I let my senses focus on her face, drops hitting her lips as her warm breath creates a cloud of shape, hinting at high cheekbones. My hand moves from her shoulder to her face, my thumb automatically exploring her soft skin, like I was never allowed to before. She leans into my hand, nestling her face in my touch, and I feel warmth spread through me.</p><p>I know I shouldn't, I shouldn't. Just let her go Matt. But I can't.</p><p>I take a small step forward and lean in towards her, suddenly greedy, but not quite enough to grasp her lips. She lets me get close, graze her bottom lip, before my hand guides her towards me, and I interrupt her breath with a kiss. Her taste, her smell, her heartbeat envelopes me, and for a moment I am blind, truly blind, as she becomes all that I feel. She kisses me back with another breath, and I let it wash over me, as I feel her lips close over mine, gently, hesitantly. I let her pulse guide me in as I take her lips once more, having to concentrate this time to regain control, to not let the sudden rush of feeling take over me. She feels so delicate, so perfect, like a flower. I feel her heart tune in with mine, and I force my hand to remain on her face and not to move to explore the curves that I can feel pressed up against me.</p><p>It takes all that I have to step back, to let go. I keep my hand on her face and let my forehead rest against hers as I listen to our heavy breathing, my senses jumbled, making it hard for me to feel grounded. I hear Foggy's voice in my head, his warning: "Be careful Matt, keep going like this and you might just end up happy." It brings another smile to my face, or maybe I was already smiling.</p><p>Would it be so bad, to be happy? Could I be selfish, just this once? Could I steal this girl, and make her mine? I know better, of course I do. But…</p><p>"Can I take you to dinner?" I ask, my voice still husky from the swirl of emotions.</p><p>"Yes," Karen replies, her eagerness making my heart soar. I feel her head nodding, instinctively, like she forgot I can't see it. Of all her little movements, I love those the most, the ones where she forgets I am blind. They make me feel whole, normal, like I am just a guy, asking her to dinner.</p><p>"Tomorrow?" I ask again, my pulse already speeding at the thought. A perfect tomorrow, waiting for me.</p><p>Her "yes" seals my future in place. I don't seem to be able to stop grinning.</p><p>The promise of tomorrow, of her smell this close, of my fingers tracing her face, of another kiss, give me the strength to let her go. I step back, letting the rain drops shape her into flickers of an image.</p><p>"Goodnight Karen," I finally say. I hear a smile play on her lips and feel the air vibrate with her warmth as her hand lifts, fingertips away from my face. I feel her hesitation in her erratic heartbeat, and then the warmth disappears. Part of me longs for her hesitant contact, yearns to hold her once again. Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow.</p><p>"Goodnight Matt", she finally says. I relish the sound of my name twisting her tongue.</p><p>She walks away, slowly, lightly, clumsily, as if she too has forgotten how to be on earth. I tilt my head to listen to her footsteps, and hear her stop and turn to look at me once again. Her hand in her wet hair sends another wave of Karen towards me and I let the raindrops read the expression on her face. The noise speaks of tenderness, of surprise. But I can't be sure.</p><p>The sound of a cab pulling up steals her away, but I stand there for another minute, trying to unjumble my senses from my feelings, searching for my legs, before I begin the long walk home. I let the lightness in my heart take over, the devil in me long forgotten, the bruises, the violence, my life, all a whisper of a memory.</p><p>Tonight, I don't want to be a soldier, or Stick's apprentice, or the devil, or even Matt Murdock, attorney at law. I don't want to be the blind man that will never be good enough for her. Tonight, just for one night, I let myself be the man that kissed the pretty girl in the rain.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was my first fic and I was overwhelmed with the response. Thank you to each one of you who took time to leave a comment or a kudo. They still make me smile!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This was my first fan fic - I hope you forgive the amateur hour and enjoyed anyways!</p><p>Thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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